


some songs that aren't about love

by jan



Category: Chihayafuru
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 15:49:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jan/pseuds/jan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not that sort of love, at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. some songs that aren't about love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sqbr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sqbr/gifts).



I.

Kana's glad to have the first-years.

It's not that she ever felt out of place, or alone, or anything as drastic as that. It's comforting not to be the least experienced, that's all. And if Kana feels a particular affinity with Hanano-san, it's not just because of having "another girl" around. Hanano-san came to karuta out of her love for something other than the game itself; Kana understands that, even if their objects of affection are worlds apart. And when Kana talks about the cards, Hanano-san _listens_ \-- not like Chihaya-chan, whose wonderment is that of discovering a familiar friend's hidden side, but with the pure and open curiosity that comes from getting to know a stranger.

Kana does what she can. Tsukue-kun teaches them how the game is played, Chihaya-chan shows them how it is, and Kana -- Kana tells them about the cards, yes, but she knows other things too. How difficult it is to start, how precious every word of encouragement; how it feels to keep losing, and how important it is to have a reason to play.

She's putting the cards away, at the end of yet another meeting, when there's a tentative "Oe-sempai?" from the doorway.

Hanano-san's lingering just outside, a sort of defiant embarrassment on her face. "Thanks for today," she says. "And... and especially for _Asajiu no_."

"You're welcome," Kana begins to say, but the other girl's already gone.

 _Asajiu no / ono no shinohara / shinoburedo..._ a poem about hidden love, Kana thinks, and smiles. Hanano-san understands wistfulness, and longing, and the passions that run deep under the surface of so many, many cards. That's why -- Kana's sure -- she's learning to love the cards too.

 

* * *

 

II.

Karuta practice is full of frustrations, and not all of them have to do with the game. Sumire fiddles with the pages of her memorisation charts, tries not to look like she's watching Mashima-sempai watch Ayase-sempai.

 _It'd be easier,_ she thinks sullenly, _if Ayase-sempai just made him give up._

It's an unkind thought, she knows. But it's such a _waste_ , watching him pine for someone who clearly doesn't even recognise it as pining. (Maybe it hurts a bit, too, and not just out of jealousy.)

"Ayase-sempai," she starts, putting on her best innocently-curious voice. "What exactly do you think of Ma--"

There's a hand on Sumire's arm; she stops, startled. Oe-sempai's frown is sympathetic as she leans closer, says in a tone of gentle steel: "Grace even in battle, Hanano-san."

\---

The weeks pass; the frustrations don't. Today's another normal practice session, whatever that means. For Sumire it usually means losing a few rounds against Tsukuba, maybe a break to study strategy with Komano-sempai if she's lucky, and then losing a few more rounds against whichever sempai ends up having to play against the first-years.

This time Ayase-sempai seems to have taken it upon her to terrify or crush Sumire, it's not clear which. She insists on playing game after game, whips the cards away too fast to follow, strikes with startling speed, over and over. It's hard, it's frustrating, it's definitely not fun at all, and Sumire is really, really tired of feeling scared when playing. So she holds her ground, guards her cards furiously, and when she finally holds on to a three-syllable card despite Ayase-sempai's crazy lunge forward, maybe she's allowed to feel a little spark of something like satisfaction or triumph. Even when she loses by a landslide again.

Ayase-sempai looks so foolishly, annoyingly happy when they're done. "You're getting stronger, Sumire-chan!"

 _That's not true,_ Sumire thinks. _Not strong enough, anyway._

It's only at the end of the session, when she and Tsukuba are saying their goodbyes to the older students, that she realises Mashima-sempai hasn't been there all day.

 

* * *

 

III.

The longer the Mizusawa karuta club exists, the easier it is to forget. But for now, every practice session is still a reminder of everything and everyone Chihaya's lucky to have.

There's Tsukuba-kun, who loved the karuta he knew so much that he threw himself into learning a different version. Sumire-chan, the only one of them who had to really _try_ to like karuta, but kept trying nonetheless. Kana-chan, whose love for the poems is deepest and purest; Nikuman-kun with his experience, his unflinching practicality; Tsukue-kun, with the data to get them where they need to be.

And there's Taichi, of course: the president she can't be, reliable and clearheaded and always there, holding them together.

Her team.

She plays them all, beats them all, never holding back. This is what she can do to make them stronger.

\---

Yet there's also someone she's wanted so long to play, someone she's never beaten. Not Shinobu-chan (though that description kind of applies to her too, but Chihaya _will_ beat her soon, she will!), but someone she can be genuinely unsure about defeating. Someone whom she'll never be able to see as separate from karuta.

She's texted him at least three times today, four if emoticon-only texts count. He even replied to one of them -- just a simple _Do your best_ , but any reply from him is a rare and special event. So maybe it's not that surprising when, as she and Kana-chan prepare for a match, one of the cards she's placing down catches her eye. She hears its first half in her head, unthinkingly: _Wata no hara--_

Arata. It's one of the cards she's come to see in his colour: the deep blue of water, the wide plains of the sea, fluid yet powerful. Compelling. That's Arata on the tatami mat, yes; but she remembers a different Arata too, the one who looks surprised and blushes and doesn't really know what to say over the phone (though that's okay, it's not like Chihaya does either). She wonders how he is. She wonders what he looks like when he plays, now, whether he's found a team yet, if he's building one right now over in Fukui--

"Chihaya-chan?"

She blinks.

Kana-chan's staring worriedly back at her, fingers stilled halfway through placing another card down. To the left, the first-years, looking up at the sound of Kana-chan's voice; beyond them, Tsukue-kun and Nikuman-kun, frowning down at their own spread instead. From his place by the box of cards, Taichi raises an eyebrow, but the smile on his lips is soft, not mocking.

"...Chihaya-chan? Are you okay?"

She gives Kana-chan a sheepish smile. "Sorry! Just distracted."

Which is true. Yes, she has Arata: a friend, a longed-for opponent, a voice on the other end of a cellphone line. But now she has her team, too. And they have her. Here, now, in the space they've found for themselves in Mizusawa, they're all she needs to think about.

Chihaya smiles. Lays down another card, and another, and the field unfurls green-and-white across the tatami, bright with the promise every new game brings.

"Come on," she says. "Let's play."

**-end-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Asajiu no' is poem #39. A rough translation: _Though hidden like sparse reeds in fields of slim bamboo, it overwhelms me; why must I love that person so?_
> 
> Arata's cards, the two which begin 'Wata no hara', are #11 and #76. The phrase roughly translates to 'the plains of the sea'.
> 
> (The 'next chapter' is just a very short companion piece to this one, not a continuation.)


	2. (and one that is)

Getting a mobile phone doesn't make things that much easier. Arata's still not sure how to deal with Chihaya's enthusiasm, that thoughtless cheerfulness of hers which propels dozens of messages to his inbox every day. A folder of unsent replies builds up; every once in a while he scrolls through them, finds them lacking, deletes them all.

Sometimes he thinks about calling. They'd talk about karuta, of course. Where they are now, what strategies they're working on, where they want to be. The next tournament. The next chance to meet -- on the karuta field, of course. (Of course.)

He never does call. But one afternoon, after a particularly excited series of texts from Chihaya about how well her team's progressing, he types _Do your best_ , hits 'send' before he can change his mind.

It means nothing. It means _I want to meet you too._


End file.
